Never Gonna Make you Cry
by ajax.the.axe.murderess
Summary: 3 years ago, Hermione left the wizarding world after a victorious battle, an unfair marriage law, and whispers of betrayal... now it's up to Draco--whose job is on the line-- to bring her back... Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**Never Gonna Make you Cry**

Authors Note: Ok, so this is my 2nd fanfic (please check out my first one, it's a short, cute, fluffy, funny one-shot about Draco and Hermione and Christmas and fun stuff like that… anyway, I love review, and chocolate, and lots of other stuff, but as long as ur reading my fic, u could just drop me a few lines (aka a review)…

Im not entirely sure where this is going, but I intend to finish it (it's definitely a dramione).

Everyone's a little OOC… but not too much, I hope…

_**Important Notes:**_ THIS IS NOT A MARRIAGE LAW FIC… also, it's not really compatible with books 5, 6, or 7, and the epilogue (obviously)… Draco joined the light side and got his name cleared!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters/the wizarding world/draco (yummmm!) they belong to JK ROWLING (who I once tried to see in Edinburgh, but I went to the wrong coffee shop…) … I believe my story is FAIRLY original (as original as you can get within a certain basic story type), so please no copying my ideas…

**Chapter I**

"Draco Malfoy?" Helena called, "Mr. Malfoy?"

"In here," he called, tucking his double espresso shot away, as the young witch opened the door. "What is it, Helena?" His voice was barely polite, the stress of day-to-day life etched on his face, and in his tired eyes.

"Mr. Shacklebolt sent me," Helena said timidly. Like most girls, Draco's attractiveness, intelligence, and reputation for a ruthless business mind terrified her out of her wits. She visibly trembled as his frown deepened. _Fuck. _Draco thought. _Now the Department head is on my tail, too, not just my manager. _An unpleasant, serpentine feeling grew in Draco's gut.

"Let me guess." He said with a withering glare in the general direction of the magical memo Helena was holding. "He has problems with my performance on case #98723, too. Manager Jenkins has reported to him, and he'd like to see me in his office. ASAP." Helena nodded, looking for all the world like a mouse cornered by a cat, _or a snake, _Draco thought.

"Tell him I'll be down in five minutes," he said, clearly dismissing the girl. Unfortunately, she seemed to be frozen in place with fear of Draco's stormy expression. "GET OUT OF MY FRIGGIN OFFICE NOW OR I WILL CALL THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT!!!" Draco shouted, sending a stack of papers tumbling off his desk in the direction of the auror department head's terrified secretary. The girl abruptly turned, running from the room, slamming the door after her. _Deep breaths, deep breaths. In, out, in out. _Draco tried to focus. _It's not her fault. Let's be cool and collected in front of Shacklebolt. Come on, Drake. You can do it. You're the youngest auror squad leader in three centuries (besides potter)… have confidence!!! _Draco's self-pep-talk seemed to work somewhat, because he straightened up, flicking his wand and sending the various papers on his desk flying to the appropriate file cabinets. Sighing, he finished his espresso shot, and stood, straightening his stylish green robes.

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Draco knocked on Head Auror Shacklebolt's door exactly six and a half minutes later. He'd used the floo in his old pal Blaise Zabini's office, which was quite near Shacklebolt's, so he didn't have to walk (_A Malfoy shouldn't have to WALK or, heaven forbid, take the lift_, he thought with a touch of his old pureblood-supremacy-based arrogance.) The door opened magically, and Malfoy entered Shacklebolt's waiting room. Helena was sitting at the desk with a flashing sign that read 'secretary' on it. Draco sneered at it, and at her in general (_spineless brainless fool! _He thought contemptuously), and Helena squeaked (_she actually squeaked???!!!) _and gestured for him to enter Shacklebolt's personal office. _Why don't I get a secretary??_ Draco wondered as he walked. _Our section of the auror department has a secretary, to organize our individual memos and auror-squad paper work…_Draco fumed. He still had to do his own paperwork, and then magically copy it, and then submit one copy to the secretary (which the secretary gave to Helena, who gave it to Shacklebolt) and keep one copy for himself. Overall, there was, in his opinion, too much red tape clogging the important process of bringing dangerous dark wizards to justice.

"Come in," called Shacklebolt, his deep voice echoing before Draco had even knocked. Smirking slightly, Draco flicked his wand and the door opened. "Please sit down, Draco. Tea?" Shacklebolt's countenance was grave. Clearly, he didn't want to give Draco this talking-to any more than Draco wanted to get it.

"No, thank you," Draco said, his smirk shifting infinitesimally towards a sneer.

"Then I'll get right down to business, Draco," Shacklebolt poured himself a cup of tea, sighed almost inaudibly, and stirred three lumps of sugar into the steaming brew. "You know that your intelligence is unquestionable," he began, "and that your place in the department was secured after your valiant and effective efforts for the light side in the war. The ministry allowed a breach in customary procedures when four new aurors—yourself included—were allowed to enter the department without going through mandatory three-year training. We felt you had already had the necessary field experience."

"Sir," Draco said, annoyance now lacing his voice, "I know all of this. I'm somewhat behind schedule in my memos, so if we could keep this short and sweet…" Draco trailed off, his point clear. Shacklebolt nodded.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but this is procedure. I'll try to keep it quick." He took a brief sip of tea, and continued. "The ministry feels that this may have been a mistake. All four aurors have now risen to relatively prominent positions, but they lack the discipline and ability to conform to standard ministry procedure that is gained through the three-year training course." At Draco's outraged snort, Shacklebolt held up his hand, asking for silence. "We do not question your abilities—but fighting in battle is very different from the rounding up and organized investigating you now are in charge of and participate in. Many members of the board felt it was necessary to send all four of you back to auror training for at least a year and a half—in light of the breaches of ministry procedure that could have been detrimental to wizarding secrecy, and the function of the auror department and ministry in general." Draco's mouth dropped open. He truly loved his job. He got to hunt dark wizards, boss people around, and was on the same level as Potter (he actually was in charge of a larger—though not more important—force). Kingsley continued. "I however felt this was unnecessary. The board left the final decision up to me. Instead, I have to decided to provide you, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Potter with tests, which if you pass you will be allowed to keep your position."

"What about Ron Weasley?" Draco asked.

"He will not have a test, he will merely continue as he has, because he is not in a leadership position now, he is still in a low-rank, so we didn't determine it necessary for him to mend his ways as of now. I will continue, if you will allow?" Kingsley inclined his head, asking for permission to elaborate further, and Draco nodded shortly. "Because your breach of procedure was—from most points of view—the most potentially hazardous, you have the most challenging test. I will not lie to you. It will not be easy. If you wish to instead return to training for a year and a half, I will allow that, because you show much promise. However, if you accept the test and pass, you will retain your current position. If you fail, you will have to go back to training anyway, and will start again at the bottom." Draco looked at Shacklebolt warily. _Oh, sweet merlin's beard! _He thought. _I'll probably be off-duty for at least a month, the squad will fall behind, and I'll fall out of sync with the rest of the department. Damn. _

"What's the challenge?" Draco asked warily, but with a hint of curiosity in his icy grey eyes.

"You know of the marriage law—which you were able to avoid by the skin of your teeth I may note—that was passed to repopulate the wizarding world after the war?" Draco nodded. "We lost many witches and wizards who didn't believe that, after earning their freedom by defeating Voldemort, they deserved to be 'enslaved'—many of them defected to the muggle world. Tomorrow, the marriage law will be repealed. I'm telling you this in confidence, and it must remain secret until the daily prophet is released tomorrow. Do you understand?" Draco nodded again. "Well, as I was saying, the ministry has seen that the population is increasing mainly not from the marriage law, but simply from previously married couples. Also, the wizards who defected have been a great loss to Britain. One of the greatest losses has defected to the Muggle world. She is living in a flat in London. Your job is to convince her to return to the world that she believes has betrayed her."

"Who is the witch?" Draco asked, with a sick feeling in his gut. The minister sighed and closed his eyes.

"Miss Hermione Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

**Never Gonna Make you Cry**

Author's Note: this chapter is pretty short, but its kinda leading into action later, so bear with me… please review, review… if I don't get any reviews, I might have to withhold the next chapter (which I've already written =]]]]) until I get more…

**Disclaimer:** same disclaimer applies… I reiterate… I own NOTHING… except my computer… please don't take my computer…

**Chapter II**

"ARRRRRGGGGGGG!" Draco Malfoy was mad; really, super-duper, Malfoy-style badass mad. Not only did he have to go and live in the muggle world, but he also had to convince Granger—definitely NOT one of his favorite people—to return to the magical world. _We're better off without her! _Draco Grumbled, even though he knew her brilliant mind would be useful in helping clean up the remaining mess form the final battle and the war. He also knew before she left she'd been doing some extremely interesting research in the fields of potions, charms, and transfiguration. She had been an excellent fighter, and would make a great auror, too. But Draco would never admit any of that to anyone, even himself.

Standing in his flat, packing his bags, he felt uprooted. First of all, while he did possess muggle clothing (necessary to his job, of course), he didn't think the muggle styles really flattered his buff body as much as robes, which swished attractively in a Professor Snape-ish manor (not that SNAPE was attractive, just that his robes were billowy) around his body. Sighing, Draco stuffed one last pair of shoes into his already over-packed duffel. He thought back to what Shacklebolt had said; _'Now, I think Miss Granger will be particularly hard to persuade' she sure will! _Draco huffed mentally, _she was about as stubborn as they came back in the school days. I wonder how I'll get her to come back? Shacklebolt did say that I didn't have to declare my mission right away. I could go 'undercover' and convince her without ever revealing my true purpose… I like that idea best, I guess… _

Draco really didn't have a plan, but he sure as heck wasn't going to waltz into Granger's flat, and demand her return, blowing his cover immediately; the best way seemed to be gaining her trust slowly, and, as Kingsley had said, never letting her know he was on a mission.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The door was rusty. There were cobwebs in the window. The furniture was pretty nice, if not old and slightly musty. He scourgified the whole place several times for good measure… and it really could've been worse. _But I really can't see why the ministry can't afford to at least give me NICE accommodations! _He thought indignantly. _While my family may have lost much of its money in the whole war debacle, I still deserve better than average! Of course, I need to be near Granger, so I can 'bump' into her… _He snorted out loud. _Figures that she's in a lower-income section of town... she's probably dirt-poor. _He smirked, and took out the black folder, with silver cursive print on it, reading 'Marriage Law Displacement Case #001'. To say Draco was surprised was an understatement. _Granger's their top priority? Why? _He was curious. There had to be something he didn't know about. _I mean, sure, she's a powerful witch, and blah blah blah, but come on! Over five hundred wizards and witches left the community, and Granger's considered to be the MOST IMPORTANT? Boy, our priorities are screwed…_

Looking over Granger's file, he felt a twinge of pity. Apparently the girl had been forced to flee the community without withdrawing any money from Gringotts, so all she had was a small amount of Muggle cash. Apparently she worked three jobs, and went to a Muggle University part time. _Waitress? Granger? Ha, that's a laugh…Librarian, no surprise there…Student, duh…and what's this? A dance instructor? Now that's just odd… _Apparently Granger struggled to make ends meet, even though she was on full scholarship to the university. _I wonder how she did that, with no complete muggle schooling, and no wand to fake credentials? _Draco read on. Apparently, she had a few friends, but was single, was a workaholic, essentially (the paperwork hinted that perhaps work helped her get her mind off her past) and was fond of painting and drawing as well.

Unbidden a plan began to form in Draco's mind. _No, Draco, bad Draco! _He thought, scolding himself. _It would never, ever, ever in a million years work. _But Draco was a risk taker—he loved a challenge—and he was a true Slytherin, and was loath to admit that he might not be up to the challenge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was depressed. Not mildly I'll-take-a-few-pills-and-it'll-go-away depressed, but the real painful everything-I've-grown-to-know-and-love-fell-through kind of depressed. She had loved her parents, and their world, but it had never been for her. Her thirst for knowledge could never be sated by muggle discoveries. That world was just too limited. She had never quite in, and always stood out too much to be considered 'cool'. So when she found the magical community, and became an accepted, beloved, essential, respected part of it, she felt truly complete. And then, after she had defended that very community from true evil—Voldemort—she was betrayed by it. At least that's how she felt. _I fought so long and hard for freedom, for respect, for safety, for the happiness of my friends and enemies alike _(here she thought of Malfoy)_ and just as everything was finally working out, they took away the most basic freedom; the freedom to choose my own future. _Hermione had always had a defiant, brave independent streak. It was the Gryffindor in her, the part that wasn't Ravenclaw-ish and brainy. And she knew that what the wizarding world wanted was wrong. And so she left.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Never Gonna Make you Cry**

Author's note: thank you so much to all my 1 reviewer!!!! I updated even tho I didn't get a lot of reviews, because I really couldn't wait to continue!!!!!!!!

To ajp'sgirl, my first reviewer: 1 million thanks! I really appreciate you being the first to recognize me!!! Yayyyyy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, at all in the world of Harry Potter… JK Rowling owns it all… I did, however, make up the idea for this story and a few of the characters… so please no fanfic-copying… =]

**Chapter III**

Hermione taught ballroom dancing Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. She specialized in Latin-style dances like the salsa and the mambo, but she could do pretty much anything, and of course she could teach pretty much anything.

She actually loved modern dancing, like rocking out on the dance floor at a club with her friends. But there wasn't that much of a market to teach that sort of dance (though she occasionally taught hip-hop as private lessons). Her classes were fairly inexpensive. Once you'd signed up, all you needed to bring was yourself—dressed in comfortable clothes—a check, made out to Miss Hermione Granger, and a willingness to learn (and possibly, if the numbers weren't even, a willingness to dance with someone of the same sex).

Her Friday class was her favorite. It was typically a more advanced class, though occasionally she allowed beginners who seemed to have a good grasp of dancing to sign up. Today being Friday, she was pretty psyched for classes.

Hurrying from her small flat, three blocks away from the dance studio she rented, with a cup of coffee in hand and her dancing course book/syllabus in her backpack along with her dancing shoes and a comfortable outfit, Hermione reflected on her plan for the day. A new young man had called her and requested to join the class—she hadn't gotten a name, but he said he had some experience and was well-coordinated and eager to learn more—she had informed him of her fees, and he had said he'd show up. _I sure hope he can dance as well as he says he can, since chances are he'll be partnered with me!_

Arriving at the studio, Hermione went into her small office, kicking off her shoes as she did entered, and placing her coffee on her small wooden desk.

Locking the door, she changed into a simple red halter tank top and close-fitting sweatpants; appropriate dancing attire. Slipping on her high-heeled yet comfortable dancing shoes (yes, she still laughed at the juxtaposition of these two adjectives; and yet, her shoes really WERE comfortable), she went into the open room where lessons took place, and began stretching as she waited for her students to arrive.

Roberto, a Spanish immigrant, who she believed had great talent arrived first, followed by Tia, Emma, Tom, Leo, Mike, Eloise, and Michelle.

_Only my new mystery pupil left!_ She thought excitedly. Her eight students had already partnered up—this was also a good class because there was an even number of men and women—they began on the regular steps that they always did for warm up. Although they were a few minutes early, they were always eager to start.

_If he isn't here in fifteen seconds, he'll be late…_Hermione thought. She was very strict about punctuality for her students. After all, time was precious to her schedule. While the dancing classes did make money, she just had enough profit from it to cover renting the studio and paying the utility bills for it, so financially it didn't help, though teaching dancing helped keep her in shape and relieve stress.

A knock came at the door. It was exactly six o'clock. _What can I say? _Hermione thought with a wry smile. _At least he's punctual!_

"Come in," She called, and the door knob turned slowly. And in came a man from her past.

A man she never, ever wanted to see again.

A man she never imagined she'd see again.

He was remarkably similar to how he'd been before the war, yet he was different; his once underfed, skinny-boy body had filled out with lean, attractive musculature; his face was less child-like and more manly but still had a pointed sort of perfection about it; his hair still was more mussed than he had ever kept it, but still fell in silky golden strands, framing his face.

And he still had the most hideous, stuck up expression she had ever beheld on his face (internally she cringed, all admiration forgotten).

"Why, hello, Mr. Malfoy," She said, when she knew she could speak without wavering. "It's lovely to see you again. Kindly join us in our stretches. You're just on time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Much later, Draco Malfoy walked back to his new flat—_I guess I should call it 'home',_ he realized—in a daze. Granger was an amazing dancer. They'd gone over steps he already knew from his high-class pureblood upbringing.

He'd danced with Granger because everyone else was already partnered off. Naturally, holding her in his arms while she taught them all the finer points of the rumba, he had noticed how much she had changed.

Her face had become quite stunning, truth be told, though not in quite the classical sense, but it had acquired a sort of mysterious sadness about it—no doubt because she had been forced to leave the wizarding world, and from the sorrows of war—and her eyes shone with a sort of hard determination, not the inquisitive kindness everyone had once seen in her open countenance.

Her body was toned and fit—actually quite buff—and she had matured quite nicely. _Stop thinking thoughts like that about your assignment- and she's a mudblood. _He used the derogatory term not because he truly held the pureblood beliefs he had been brought up with, but because he was attempting to cling to some familiar sanity in this new world he had been throw into.

Arriving at his flat, he climbed the stairs to his door and fumbled with his keys, trying unsuccessfully several times to unlock the door. _Damn. _He thought. _Muggle security is more trouble than its worth. _Chuckling slightly, he thought of how easy it was to simply cast simple locking wards over a house, keyed to a certain wand… He was snapped back to reality as the door finally opened. Sighing, he took a steamy shower and climbed into bed, thoroughly exhausted and not even thinking about the dinner he had skipped.

XXXXXXXXX

Hermione Granger sat in the window seat in her little home, stroking her new cat Mika (Crookshanks still lived somewhere in the wizarding world, as far as she knew), and revising for her midterms at the University. She was expecting her friend Sally Robinson (a muggle) any moment.

A knock at the door signaled Sally's arrival.

"Come in!" called Hermione, her pen not leaving the page of her thick leather-bound notebook. Sally let herself in, and sighed, as she took in her studious friends disheveled, but not wholly unattractive appearance.

"Have you eaten lunch today, 'Mione?" Sally asked, placing a paper bag on the table and smiling over at Hermione. Hermione reached over and grabbed another hefty tome from her stack of books and began cross-referencing her notes. She absently shook her head. Sally's face took on a look of determined humour, as she marched across the room, grabbing the book from Hermione.

"Come on! You're wasting away in here. And we all know you'll ace your midterms regardless of how much you study. I brought Chinese food!" Hermione just frowned at the young woman. "I've got beef teriyaki, egg rolls, mushi rice, and hot and sour soup!" Hermione's stomach growled, and she sighed, stretching.

"Fine, I've got to talk to you anyways, about stuff…" She trailed off, sitting at one of the stools at the tiny table, and opening one of the white cardboard take-out boxes.

"What sort of stuff?" asked Sally, using her chopsticks to serve herself an egg roll. Hermione rolled her eyes, and her expression hardened slightly, as if steeling herself against an inevitable avalanche.

"Guy stuff." She said.

"Oooooooh? A hot steamy love affair?" Sally's eyebrows disappeared into her long, dirty-blonde bangs. Hermione grinned ruefully, knowing that she would receive such a response.

"Decidedly not. Actually, it's not really even romantic sort of guy stuff." Sally's face fell. "It's more like someone I don't—didn't—like, and now have to deal with." Suddenly a look of understanding crossed Sally's face.

"From your… other life?" she asked. Sally didn't know about the wizarding world, but Hermione had told her that she was kind of hiding out from her family and friends who she had a 'falling-out' with. Hermione nodded, looking worried.

" Ooo wanda twak abou' eet?" Sally asked through a mouthful of rice. Hermione laughed. _She reminds me of a more intelligent version of Ron sometimes, _Hermione thought. _She always jumps head first into things, and loves eating and talking with her mouth stuffed full of food. _

"Well, I guess I might as well ask for your advice…" Hermione trailed off. Sally nodded for her to continue, loading her plate with three strips of beef teriyaki. "It's someone who always tormented me in school because he was a pure—" she broke off realizing she had been about to say 'pureblood'. "A pure git." She covered. "He hated me because I wasn't really rich, like him, and he got into some bad stuff… eventually, he kind of mended his ways, but a rift remained between us. Now he's in my Friday night dance class, and he's my partner…" She trailed off, realizing how ridiculously mundane and silly she sounded. _How can I explain the terror we all felt because of Voldemort? How much it hurt to be called ' mudblood'? The pain of being ejected from the wizarding world, without giving away anything?_ Luckily, Sally seemed to understand that there was more that Hermione was unwilling to talk about.

"Well, girly, my advice is to just be professional. You're the teacher. It's your job to teach, and anything that happened outside the dance hall is none of your business. As long as he doesn't bring up the past, just do your job and let him be!" she finished her advice with a flourish, and brought a spoonful of hot and sour soup up to her mouth. Hermione smiled, remembering why she prized Sally so much as a friend; she was honest, logical, thoughtful, and was majoring in psychology, and hoping to become a psychiatrist or therapist, so she was always full of good advice and counseling.

"Sounds like a plan to me!" said Hermione, her face not betraying the worry that still bubbled up unbidden inside of her. _I'm not ready to face my past just yet. _She realized. _I need more time to let old wounds heal. _

"It'll be find, Hermione," Sally assured her, reaching out to pat her friends hand. "And don't you have to work from three to eight tonight?" Hermione sighed.

"Nine, actually, but yah. I'd best go get my uniform on and head on over," Hermione got up, and placed her dish in the sink. Sally packed up the food, and got on her coat. "I'll see you later?" Hermione asked.

"Yep, and keep me posted," Sally requested. "maybe we can study together for the English midterm!" Hermione nodded, and waved to her friend as she left.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Xianna's Bar and Grille was always busy Saturday nights. As one of the most respected establishments in town, it entertained a wide variety of guests, from business men to minor celebrities. Hermione was, in reality, quite lucky to have landed a job there with relative ease, since waitressesing there was a much sought-after position; it paid well, and you weren't expected to put up with any guff; after all, the restaurant had a reputation to maintain!

Hermione arrived in the back room, decked out in the waitress outfit; a dark red skirt that came just above her knees, black tights, black heels and a modest-yet-form-fitting collard shirt, with her name on it. Her hair was pulled back into a curly ponytail, with a deep red hair band keeping all the flyaway bits (besides her bangs, which fell straight across her forehead) out of her eyes.

After greeting her manager, Hermione headed out to start taking orders. It was tedious work, but Hermione enjoyed meeting strangers; while she was majoring in Chemistry at the University, she always had harbored a secret desire to become an author, so she enjoyed watching people to get ideas for characters.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Waitress? Lady? We need assistance!" a screechy voice called, reminding her of Neville's grumpy old grandmother. She winced at the memory; she still didn't like to think of her other life.

"Yes ma'am? How may I help you?" she asked, taking in the little old lady and the small boy and girl—neither of which could have possibly been older than five—sitting at a large table.

"we need a three diet cokes and two glasses of water, NOW please. Make it snappy. I haven't got all day." Hermione opened her mouth to reply politely; she was used to impatient customers. However, the lady cut her off; "COME ON, girl, stop being such a self-absorbed bitch and get my poor grandchildren their drinks!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but inappropriate language is unnecessary—" she began, but was cut off by an angry familiar voice, and a hand placed on her arm.

"That was completely uncalled for!" someone behind her hissed at the old woman. "I'm sorry, but if you behave in such a crude, rude, insensitive manner again towards any of our employees, I will have to ask you to leave." Hermione whirled around in surprise, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy stood behind her, suddenly looking somewhat shy at her questioning glare.

"We meet again…" he trailed off, forgetting about the old woman. "I'm the new evening manager…" Hermione glowered at him. Suppressed images swirled before her mind of all that she had left behind. She could feel herself beginning to panic. Every time she looked at him she saw Harry and Ron, the final battle, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall; heck, she even saw herself, back in the S.P.E.W days. _The bottom line is that I'm going to die of a broken heart if every time I work I see him, and I am forced to think about and remember everything I've left behind! _She was furious, confused (_is this guy stalking me???_), and overtired, and so she reacted like any normal person would under such stress. She fainted.

"If you two lovebirds would stop chatting I want my—" the grumpy old woman's complaints were cut off by a gasp as she saw the waitress fall towards the ground, and the handsome blonde manager catch her gracefully just before her head hit an approaching trolley full of steaming hot appetizers.

**A/N: I'm really proud of this chapter, just because its way longer than any of the rest… it's funny, 'cause I thought I'd written so much for chapters I and II, but then I looked at them on and they were so short! Aha… that's life!!! Anyway, I plan to make them longer from now on. –jazzy**

**PLEASE REVIEW! YOUR REVIEWS ARE LIKE FUEL, OR CHOCOLATE, OR HUGS! They keep me going! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Never Gonna Make you Cry**

**Chapter IV**

Hey everybody! Thanx for the reviews! Once again, I really appreciate it! It's great to have feedback- it really helps my writing process! And support is always great! Here are just some quick notes to reviewers:

Yobusy: don't worry, I didn't get the wrong idea… and I think I mentioned in chap. I that malfoy's 'crime' was worse than Harry or Luna's (it had worse potential consequences)… I guess Harry probably (realistically) would've been a better choice for someone to try to regain Hermione's trust (since they're already friends) but first of all, having Draco go suits the purpose of this story… also, Im planning on an explanation for the large rift between Ron, Hermione and Harry later… but I don't wanna give too much away!

Duma: yep, im really excited for Draco convincing Hermione to return, too! It's gonna be fun to write!

Thank you also to: **Silver Rose-17**, **ca803, Kala-Kuriko** (12 hugs? Yayyyy!!), and **Black Raven Midnight**

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Hermione woke up feeling slightly groggy, with faint panic twisting and knotting deep down in her belly. Her eyes flickered open, and clashed almost immediately with icy grey orbs. Malfoy. And then she remembered all about Malfoy. He was, essentially her boss. _Boy oh boy! _She thought, as she sat up slowly. _This is like a dream come true. Only a REALLY bad dream. _

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Draco asked, concern evident in his eyes. The grumpy old lady who looked like—and acted like—Neville's gran hobbled towards Hermione. Hermione quickly looked away, not feeling in the mood for a confrontation. Looking back at Draco she frowned.

"That's Miss Granger to you, Malfoy—last time I checked we weren't on first name terms," she grunted, her voice laced with malice. Now she had a headache. She had never fainted before, and now she'd had the experience, she was in no hurry to repeat it.

"Sorry Miss Granger," he paused slightly, smirking, his voice taking on a mocking tone, "I figure since I'm now your boss—and savior—I had the right. But then again, some people never seem to be able to learn there place…" he trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks and understand the hidden slur in his words. _So I'm still 'mudblood' to him. _She realized. For some reason, the realization brought on a sad, faint achy feeling in her gut. She shook it off.

"When you've earned the right to call me by my first name, I'll let you know. And last time I checked it was your fault I fainted in the first place!" she glared at him, challenging him to respond.

"Oooh, good to know I have that sort of affect on you Granger," Draco smirked. Hermione's mouth dropped open and she mouthed wordlessly at him, horrified at his implications. Draco continued, with sarcastic thoughtfulness. "Let me think here for a second. Do I want to hear what you're about to say? Maybe? Because it would be amusing, and I could get an excuse to report you to our boss for bad conduct… however, I think for now you'd better get back to work… _Miss _Granger." Hermione cringed slightly internally at the patronizing way he said her name. He sounded like a professor. And she certainly didn't ever want to think of Draco Malfoy with the power to decide people's futures—give the grades—in his hands…

"Well, Mr. Manager, if you want me to work LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE—I still have seniority over you here, and I'm not afraid to pull a few strings to get you…fired!!" She smirked at him, in a near perfect imitation of his trademark expression, and turned and began to walk away. Draco turned, frowning, in the opposite direction._ Since when has she been so… disagreeable? I mean, yeah, she always was annoying, but she kind of mellowed out after the war… but she IS kinda sexy when she's angry! _He smirked.

"Ooooh! Kinky!" muttered the old lady in response to their argument, just loud enough for Hermione and Draco to hear, effectively breaking Draco out of his reverie. Both whirled around, sending almost-identical glares towards the old woman. "And don't forget my drinks, honey!" she shouted after Hermione, who simply shook her head in disgust and headed back into the kitchen to get them.

At nine, Hermione's shift finished. She went into the back room to collect her purse from her locker. Grabbing her car keys, she smiled, imagining the hot shower she'd indulge in at home to work the stress-induced kinks out of her back. She was startled out of her reflections by a tap on her shoulder. Already knowing who it was, she turned around exasperatedly.

"What do you want Malf—" She was startled to see it wasn't actually her arch-nemesis from her school days as she had expected, but instead Ben, the busboy and fellow University student. (_He's majoring in English, right?_). She'd only talked to him a couple dozen times—he was quiet and introspective, but most definitely intelligent—and their conversations stuck out in her minds as breaths of fresh air in the monotonous atmosphere of the restaurant. _He isn't at all bad looking, either… _She thought, feeling slightly bad for always having ignored him, passing him off for just another guy. _With those deep brown eyes and almost black hair, he really could be quite handsome… _She smiled at him.

"Hey, Ben! How's it going?" she asked, with more cheer than she thought possible to muster when she was so damn exhausted.

"Ahhh, I'm fine, Hermione…It's been a long day, but that's nothing new!" he laughed. _He seems more outgoing than usual… _she realized.

"Is your shift over now, too?" Hermione wondered, fingering her car keys absently.

"Yep, I'm just heading out now…" he trailed off. Hermione dredged up her mental file labeled 'Ben' and shuffled through it. _He isn't exactly well-off right now, _she remembered. _His parents wouldn't pay for his college, so he probably doesn't have a car… or if he does, he can't afford to run it._

"You need a ride?" she asked as she pulled on her coat and scarf.

"Ummmmmmm…" Ben looked uncertainly at her, his rocker-cut dark hair half in his eyes, a bashful expression on his boyishly handsome face.

"Don't worry, it's definitely no trouble…" Hermione encouraged, smiling up at him.

"Ok. Sounds good to me… I live on Park Avenue… is it too far away from your house? I really hope its no bother…" he muttered, clearly slightly embarrassed about his situation.

"Oh, it's fine!" Hermione said, giving him another friendly smile. "I just recently saved up enough to buy my car. Before then I was hitchhiking and borrowing rides off everyone to get around town… I figure it's good karma to pay some of that back… you know? And besides, it's nice to have someone to talk to on the way home!" Ben grinned back at her.

"Sounds good!" he said, loosening up again. "I heard you had a little spat with new evening manager… what do you think of him?" Hermione groaned slightly, but shrugged noncommittally.

"He seems to like being in charge. He'll be ok. I guess." They walked out to her car, chatting lightly about the University, work, being poor, and day to day life, completely unaware of the icy silver eyes watching them from the dining hall window.

_Ben really is a nice guy, _Hermione realized the next morning. It was Sunday, so she had plenty of down-time. She booted up her computer and e-mailed some of her Muggle friends, and then picked up her phone, and got ready to call Sally. _Of course she'll find out about me giving Ben a ride home through the gossip grapevine… it's better if I tell her the details myself… and besides, she's been dying for me to like someone romantically FOREVER… she'll be really pleased if I just __**mention**__ Ben as possibly something more than a friend._

As Hermione had predicted, Sally was psyched to hear about a potential romance in Hermione's life, and they arranged to meet at a small local coffee house in an hour. Hanging up the phone, Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. _Romance? Come on! I barely know the guy… I can see us being great friends, but it's way too early to be talking about DATING… Sally really is boy crazy. _Hermione chuckled to herself, and went into her bedroom to change out of her pajamas into stylish skinny jeans and a deep purple pea coat. She let her hair curl luxuriously down her back, but put a matching purple ribbon in her hair. She completed the ensemble with purple boots. Grabbing her purse, she headed out of the house, knowing she'd be a little early to meet Sally, but glad for the extra time to walk around town and just enjoy the beautiful—but frosty—day.

The streets were slightly icy, but Hermione loved the cold winter air. Allowing herself to just let go, and embrace her inner child, Hermione blew out into the cold winter air, making shapes with her breath. Smiling and humming as she walked along, she was completely oblivious to those around her. She finally became aware of another presence walking by her side, and jumped slightly, slipping dangerously on the ice in the process. After what seemed like an eon of slip-sliding on the icy sidewalk, Hermione fell, bringing the stranger down with her.

_Ouch. _

"Nice to see you again, Miss Granger!" an overly-cheery voice called from beside her on the pavement. Hermione groaned. _Malfoy. Not again. I swear, he's like my shadow. Everywhere I go, he goes!_

"Nice? Nice? I'm lying on the icy sidewalk, thoroughly bruised and embarrassed, being stepped on by passersby and you call this NICE?" Hermione's voice started out a dangerous his and slowly grew in volume 'til she shouted the last word, sitting up on the ice and rubbing her arm.

"Well, it was certainly a lovely morning before I saw you, Granger!" Malfoy sneered, clearly insulted by her anger.

"Rest assured I feel the same way, Malfoy!" Hermione huffed, slipping and sliding as she attempted to stand.

"Hey, by the way, I meant to inquire how your date went last night…" Malfoy said, his smirk firmly in place. Hermione was thoroughly confused.

"Date? What the fudge are you talking about Malfoy?" she asked, pretty pissed at him by now.

"Don't take the name of our former minister of magic in vain, Granger…" Malfoy sneered at her.

"Fine. I'll rephrase it then. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU STUPID, OVERLY-EGOTISTICLAL, BIGOTED, FERRETY FREAK!" a few passersby had stopped to listen to her tirade. Malfoy had the decency to look slightly abashed.

"Never mind, Granger… I was just alluding to your… um… well, it was nice talking to you, bushy-haired, buck-toothed, book-worm!" He jumped up, with much more ease than Hermione, and smiled at her, his good mood seemingly restored by the barrage of insults. Startled Hermione started slipping slightly, an expression of horror appearing on her pretty face as she felt herself begin to go down (_not again!_). Suddenly a hand shot out, catching the small of her back, steadying her. Draco. He was smiling somewhat belligerently, but the bulk of his foul mood seemed to have disappeared in the blink of an eye. Hermione slapped his hand away, huffing indignantly.

"Watch where you put your hands, Malfoy—I'll have you know I still have a killer right hook!" she grinned slightly inside, but kept a scowl on her face. Malfoy was momentarily speechless, his mouth working like a fish.

"You despicable, freaky, ungrateful, horrible, ugly, miserable, low-life! I just saved your sorry little neck and what do you do? You _bitch _at me! I don't ever want to see your face again, _mudblood_!" he suddenly looked shocked after his little tirade, but it was too late. Tears were already forming in Hermione's soulful cinnamon-brown eyes.

"I'm not even a mudblood any more, Malfoy," Hermione whispered in a broken voice, "I'm a muggle. Just a muggle. They have my wand. They probably broke it. They have my life. And they're never going to give it back. Ever. And I don't want to see you again, either, Malfoy, because you just remind me of what I'm missing out on. And because you're a spoilt git who doesn't understand what it's like to have nothing…" she paused, and wiped her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hide her tears. "Get out of my face, Malfoy. I don't have time for your pigheaded crap."

**PLEASE REVIEW EVERYBODY!!! I LOVE WRITING THESE CHAPTERS, SO THEY'LL BE COMING PRETTY FAST!!! BUT IT I GET LOTS OF REVIEWS, THEY'LL COME EVEN FASTER!!!!!!!!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Never Gonna Make you Cry**

**Author's Note: **Thanx again for all the reviews… by now u all probably know how I feel about reviews—but just a quick recap—I LOVE REVIEWS!! Notes to my reviewers:

Lollipopbbt: I'm excited for what I have in store for them, too!

Hermione-Loves-Ron16311: Well, telling her outright wouldn't be a very Malfoy-ish thing to do, would it? And besides, it would make this story much more boring… haha

Spikeecat: Thank you!!! And yep, when I wrote the last chapter, it just kinda flowed down hill (for Draco) without much planning, so I had trouble coming up with a plan for this chapter- I hope u like it!!

Pau-0803: thanks! (and malfoy is an ass, but he's sure a cutie!! lol)

Kari9629: I'm glad you like the plot- I'm trying 2 make it as exciting as possible!!

TwinsConspiracy: Thank you for all your reviews to all the chapters!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, at all, in terms of characters, plot or the whole idea of the HP universe (AKA anything)—it all belongs to JK Rowling. **

**Chapter V**

Hermione felt like Crap. It was Monday, and she had a dance lesson today, which she didn't feel like teaching. She didn't feel like studying, or eating, or sleeping, or even curling up with a good book and a mug of foamy hot chocolate; she just wanted to go lie down in a corner and die. _First Malfoy comes back and brings up all those crappy memories, then he starts popping up everywhere like the amazing bouncing ferret he is, then he insults me and pushes me over the edge, and I end up sulking in my flat just when I need to be on top of everything for my midterms and all…_Hermione felt terrible for herself. _You didn't deserve this, Hermy! _She thought to herself. _Get your sorry arse up off the couch and go find your chemistry book. You've got some studying to do. _

After multiple pep-talks, and three cups of black coffee, Hermione was sufficiently motivated to grab her study bag, and head down to the restaurant for her midday shift before classes at the University at five. _Malfoy's the __**evening**__ manager, so if I've any luck at all, he won't be there. _

Five minutes later, Hermione discovered herself to be truly luckless. Karina, the normal daytime manager, had come down with a nasty cough. So of course Malfoy, ever the gentleman, had stepped in to fill her place. _And he probably is getting paid extra for working overtime. What the hell is up with that? He doesn't even NEED money… as far as I know…_

Hermione studiously avoided him until three o'clock, when Mandy, the new waitress, spilled three platefuls of kippered fish salad into a customers lap. The crisis called for intervention from higher powers, and of course Malfoy stepped up to bat, cajoling the incensed customer, scolding Mandy, and over all reveling in the control he had over virtually everyone in the restaurant. And of course, of all the waitresses he could've chosen to help him supervise the clean-up of the mess, he chose Hermione. _It's not even my JOB to clean up messes like this. That's the busboy's job! _Of course, she didn't say this out loud to the prat, because she wasn't really on speaking terms with him (_he doesn't deserve to be __**noticed**__!_) but dutifully did her job, and listened to him regroup the crew. Truth be told, he was a good leader, but Hermione would never admit this to anyone, ever.

Ben's shift started at four, half an hour before Hermione got off work, and Malfoy seemed to make it his business to harass Ben and Hermione until their eardrums were raw from his irritating words. _Talk about unprofessional! _Huffed Hermione as she grabbed her bag, bid Ben goodbye, sneered at briefly at Malfoy, and walked home to grab her books and change before her English literature class at five.

The quiet calm of the classroom was refreshing—a balm to Hermione's bruised and overworked spirit. Hermione studiously took notes, delighting, as usual, in her own meticulous organization. The familiar smells of pen and ink, new and used textbooks and the thought of so many minds learning, achieving, becoming informed, just like her, helped her to relax. After answering approximately half of the professor's questions, she emerged from the classroom with her self-esteem suitably boosted, and her will to live back in tact.

Jumping in her car, she hurried home to grab her dance stuff. Much to her surprise, on the floor of her flat there lay a letter, addressed in green to '_Miss Granger_'… _No doubt who that's from! _Thought Hermione grumpily. She contemplated throwing the letter in her small but merry fire, but thought better of it. _After all, it could provide an excellent black mail opportunity, or it could be from someone besides Malfoy, who just is fond of thick parchment envelopes, Slytherin colors, and calls me 'Miss Granger'._

Unceremoniously tearing the envelope open, Hermione drew out the script, written in the same green ink; not exactly neat, but overall legible. Sighing, she sat down on the carpet in front of her fire, petting Mika absently. With false bravado, she smoothed the letter out and began to read.

_Dear Miss Granger~_

_It is my pleasure to inform you that it takes two to tangle. No doubt you are familiar with this common Muggle saying. I start this missive with it not because I am particularly fond of Muggle sayings, but because, as I am sure you have realized, no fault (in an argument) can ever be laid completely with one party or the other. Therefore I apologize for my less-than-half-share of actions that caused our little spat the other night. I hope you have the decency to accept your faults and apologize for your share of our disagreement, as well. You should know…_

Hermione stopped reading and huffed angrily, dropping the letter onto the carpet. _What a prick! _She looked down at the letter warily, not sure if she wanted to continue reading. Sighing, she picked it up again. Curiosity got the better of her; she really wanted to know what the point of Malfoy's pompous letter was.

…_You should know that writing this letter has been no mean feat. I was spurred on merely by the knowledge that, muggle-born as you may be, you are at least aware of our world. It is not in my nature to apologize or take fault for anything. _

Hermione stopped reading at that sentence. _He wrote to me just to make himself look good, taking the blame and apologizing first!! _Angrily she jumped up, and realizing that she was already almost late for her seven o'clock dance class.

Meanwhile, Malfoy was talking to Mr. R.P. Steinford, owner of a quite sizeable amount of rentable and lease-able land, and renowned stingy businessman.

"Rudolf, you will benefit from this, too…" he spoke confidently. _If they think that you believe in it, they believe in it…_ He smirked his trademark smirk, and shifted his weight to his left foot, waiting for the businessman's reply. "I would give you more time, but I'm afraid I've got a rather busy schedule to attend to today…"

"But why, Mr. Malfoy? I don't understand your motives at all!" Mr. Steinford was befuddled. He understood very few things in life; straightforward business was easy enough; motives were always clear, and so were the benefits of deals and such. However, odd proposals by clearly affluent but mysterious gentlemen (such as Draco) weren't really his cup of tea.

"My motives do not concern you, Mr. Steinford…" Malfoy smiled a condescending smile that said 'you will never understand, so don't even try'. "All that concerns you is hard cash. You understand that well enough I can tell." Malfoy dug the muggle bills out of his pocket, and fanned them out for Steinford to see. "Simple enough, right sir? Not only do you collect more rent, but you get a little—hmm, what shall we call it—commission" (here Malfoy paused to smirk at his word choice) "from me! I guarantee you I am doing nothing illegal." Steinford still looked doubtful. "Are you a romantic, sir?" Malfoy asked suddenly, allowing his business persona to melt into an outwardly more cordial façade. Steinford grimaced, clearly still confused.

"Occasionally, I can be slightly romantic I suppose…" he answered, chuckling slightly, and trying desperately to find his footing on unfamiliar ground. Malfoy smiled understandingly.

"Well, let's just say that this matter is prompted by my most ardent love for a young lady…" Malfoy made a lovesick puppydog face—completely fake, of course—but Steinford lapped it up.

"Ah, I understand, Mr. Malfoy…" he was back on home turf. It was just another deal—nothing shady or illegal, of course. "In that case, it is as good as done!" Malfoy smiled.

"Here's your cash, Mr. Steinford," he said, handing the man a wad of bills. "The other half will be delivered when I receive evidence that our deal has been completed." They shook hands on it.

"She should be here around seven," Steinford explained. "I'll broach the problem then."

Hermione parked her car in the tight little parking space that she always used in front of the studio, and walked up the steps. She had made it in record time, it seemed, and had plenty of time to get ready. After shuffling around for her keys, Hermione found them, and began to unlock the studio. Her senses still sharper than average from her training during the war, Hermione sensed the presence of someone behind her, and whirled around.

"Hello, Hermione. Long time no see!" chuckled her landlord (owner of the dance studio) Mr. Steinford. Hermione noticed the uneasy way his eyes flicked back and forth between her and the dance studio. "Well, I hope your life… and business… are going well…" Hermione was bursting with barely-cloaked curiosity. Normally Mr. Steinford was a jovial fatherly man—at least around her—clearly something was off about him tonight. His normal business-like attitude, combined with enthusiasm and a zest for life was gone, replaced by a sort of timid, skirt-around-the-issue type of unease.

"Hello, Rudolf," Hermione greeted, not bothering to hide her hurry to get into the studio. "I've got a lesson soon, but if you want to chat I suppose I've got a few moments…" Steinford nodded and wiped his hands uneasily on his business coat.

"It's an issue of your… um… rent… actually," Steinford began to explain, mopping his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. Hermione frowned slightly. Her rent hadn't changed in quite some time… two and a half years, actually… "I've been keeping it down at the prices of…er… two or three years ago because I know how much you love this place, love teaching, and the likes, but realistically it's no longer that profitable—for me—to not raise your rent at least a little bit." Hermione bit her lip. _I should've seen this coming…_

"How much?" She asked, taking the bull by the horns and getting straight to the issue (in a typical Hermione manner), unlike Steinford had.

"Well, to be completely honest it should probably be about two hundred pounds…" Hermione stifled a gasp. That was a heck of a lot of money. _Damn. That's like four once-a-week private lessons! _"But I don't really need to increase it that much… I was thinking, at least for now, about fifty pounds more per month…" Hermione gaped at him. _Fifty pounds? Where the fuck am I going to find fifty pounds? I'm stretched to the limit; I'm behind on my book payments for school… fifty pounds… that's my grocery money! _

"Um… when does this go into effect?" Hermione asked, worry etched across her face. _I could give up the studio if I absolutely have to… but I'd really rather not… it's my escape! _

"December," Steinford replied.

"So I have four freaking days to come up with FIFTY fucking POUNDS?" she was outraged. _Shouldn't he at least have given me more warning? _Steinford winced.

"Now, now, let's not get angry about this… You're a smart girl… good with money… I'm sure you'll be able to get a loan or more students or something!" he smiled a slightly patronizing smile. "I've got to run, my dear… Lots to do, you know! Never a break for us hard workers!" Hermione watched him go contemptuously. _Hard worker my arse. He's a wealthy snob who goes around extracting rent from tenants. Geeze. I hate those people. _

Hermione's lesson went relatively well. The students were enthusiastic, if not very talented. By the time she got home at nine-thirty she was thoroughly exhausted. After brushing her teeth and changing into a purple flannel nighty, she collapsed on her bed. _Four days. _She realized with a sigh. _Four days to find fifty more pounds… and what's the easiest way to find fifty pounds? _She thought for a few moments, tossing and turning in bed. _Teach private lessons, of course. _She sighed again, more audibly this time. Sensing her distress Mika purred, and jumped nimbly up onto the bed next to Hermione, curling up in a warm little ball by her side. Finding people who wanted private lessons wasn't easy. _I'll have to put up a few advertisements for inexpensive private dance lessons, and hope for the best… _

A tiny tear leaked from Hermione's eye and trailed down her cheek, as she began to fall asleep. _Haven't I already had my share of trials? _she asked the universe. Drifting into the realm of dreams, she remembered the chorus to a song she'd heard on the radio not too long ago.

_Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong  
Move along, move along like I know you do  
And even when your hope is gone  
Move along, move along just to make it through  
Move along_

Author's note: Okay, so I just randomly threw that song in at the end (doesn't belong to me—lyrics are from 'Move along' by the all-american rejects) I thought it sort of fit with the chapter—hermione has to stay strong (right?)… anyway, please review… and if u guys like the little bit of song lyrics in the fic, tell me, because I can think of a ton of songs that will go with my plans for future chappies of this fic!!

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	6. Chapter 6

**Never Gonna Make You Cry**

Author's Note: I now have 21 reviews! Chea! I feel very honoured by every one's kind words (not one bad review yet- not that I don't appreciate constructive criticism!)… A lot of you are very perceptive in your reviews- things will be not-so-great for draco once Hermione figures out his deceit… this is going to be a long-term project, so I have lots of twists and turns planned… I don't want things to get too boring with the regular-day muggle life thing… so please tell me if u think I need to put my changes in very soon, or if I should keep with my current plan, which is to have the big twists a bit later…

Also, I'm continuing putting in some song lyrics… the lyrics for this chapter are from _Friday I'm in Love_ by The Cure… I'm not actually a huge fan of their music, but the lyrics really seemed to fit this chapter…

Special thanks to: **TwinsConspiracy**, **spikeecat**, **Hermione-Loves-Ron16311**,** rons-girlbloom**, and **Pau-0803**, my chapter 5 reviewers! Your words keep me going…

And I apologize for the slow update- I had lots of papers to write, and I also had major writers block, as well as funerals to attend! But still, nothing is a good excuse- I apologize profusely to everyone- I'll update faster next time…

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Harry Potter, and the characters I'm using in this story, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfiction, because I'd be a famous author- so DON'T SUE ME… it all belongs to J.K. Rowling…

**Chapter VI**

Hermione arose Tuesday morning, with ten-pound weight in her otherwise empty (and growling!) stomach… the sense of forboding was there before she opened her eyes. And then she remembered. _Fifty pounds. Fifty pounds. Fifty pounds. Fifty pounds. Fifty fucking goddamn bloody pounds! _ And to top it all she was hungry.

Grumbling, Hermione made herself a bowl of cornflakes with orange juice; not really her favorite breakfast (_the citrus-y tang really clashes horribly with the corny falvour of the cornflakes!)_, but she was out of milk. And milk cost far more than OJ. Finishing off her breakfast, Hermione washed her plate and walked over to her phone. _Time to update Sally…_ she thought, realizing that her friend would have a spazz attack on her if she didn't tell her any changes in her life right away. _Putting off the inevitable will just make her mad. _

*****

"I don't care if Monday's blue  
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too  
Thursday I don't care about you  
It's Friday, I'm in love"

Hermione sang to herself all the way to dance. She needed some moral support, after all, and with Sally going out of town with her boyfriend on Tuesday, she wasn't very well-stocked in the friendly encouragement department. Of course she wasn't literally in love. Not Hermione Granger, martyr-of-the-wizarding-world-extraordinaire. Nope. But to some extent she was in love with the _idea_ of Friday. The end of the week. The beginning of the weekend. A figurative period of rest- before another hectic week. _And, of course, my Friday dance lesson! _Hermione skipped up the last few steps and unlocked the front door. _Malfoy will come tonight, _she realized, her skips abruptly flattening out to a dull shuffle. _Hopefully he'll behave. _

Truth be told, Malfoy had been an absolute terror at work. He seemed to love the idea of being in charge of not only the staff of the restaurant, but also the guests, who he ordered to their seats like an aged professor arranging the seating for disorderly studetns. _Clearly he has a power complex! _She huffed. Arriving in her office, she realized that she had more than half an hour before she had to even THINK about getting ready. Sitting down, she contemplated her nightmarish week (which she had from Monday would be horrible, since she was given night shifts every night from Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday), thinking of all the times Malfoy had gone out of his way to taunt her. Her week had been particularly bad- having been spent with the impending doom of paying her newly-increased rent hanging over her head.

_Tuesday. I was taking my quick 5-minute break halfway through my shift. COMPLETELY allowed. __**Everyone**__ takes a break. __**Everyone. **__And there's Malfoy. Silver-blonde hair falling into silver-blue eyes. And damn he looks gorgeous. But he's a prat, and a bastard, and the bane of my current (and previous) existence so it doesn't really matter. And he comes over, and leans next to me on the brick wall. And complains. Says I shouldn't be taking my break. And I ignore him, because, dammit, I know I'll smash his pointy, pretty, aristocratic face in if I let myself even say a word to him. Because this is my life. I've created it from scratch. And he's not allowed inside my little muggle-world bubble. Because my little muggle-world bubble is all that keeps me from going crazy, because I miss everything from my other life so badly. And he scooches closer. Why? I can feel his body heat, hear his breathing. I close my eyes. I'm never totally relaxed near anybody, nowadays. Dancing is high-maintenance, unless you have an impeccable partner, and I never trust my partners enough to relax. I guess you could say I have trust issues…Malfoy isn't talking anymore. He must feel it too- that peacefulness, the perfect-ness, of being near one another. But of course it would've been like that with anyone else. Like Ben. It's just the moment of collective relaxation._

Spinning in her desk chair, Hermione nibbled the end of a ball-point pen thoughtfully. She spun a few more rotations, and her thoughts shifted to Wednesday.

_Wednesday. I was holding a tray, with a Jumbo plate of Spaghetti, Barbeque chicken, and Fish and Chips, Alphabet Soup, and Lasagna, and a massive bread basket, along with drinks, and five slices of double chocolate pound cake. Way too big for me, really. I mean, come on! Usually they let us take two loads for orders like that. But nope. We had to be 'on our toes' and 'super-duper-efficient' that night. The place was packed. And there I was, about to drop the tray. I was resigned to my fate. The whole thing was slipping through my fingers like water. Years of waitressing experience made me see it coming, and see that I couldn't save it. Oh well. And then arms come from behind me, and encircle my body, grabbing the tray I'm holding in front of me. Gentle hands clasp over my own, strong arms brush my sides. "Got that under control now, Miss Granger?" I can hear the self-satisfied smirk before I even turn around. _

Spinning a few more times in her chair, Hermione shook off the memories of Draco's arm's around her, and thought of Thursday.

_Thursday. I was packing up, and about to head into the office to get my tips for the night. Surprisingly, the door was closed. I head the voice of Mina. "Mr. Malfoy…" her voice was breathy. I could practically hear her batting her eyelashes. Though Mina was a part-time waitress, she was a full-time flirt. "I really hate to bring this up…" She trailed off. Leaning against the wall, I sighed. I could tell there was more eyelash-batting and long-drawn-out sighing going on in there. Clearly Mina __**really**__ wanted something from Malfoy. Or maybe she just recognized his superior muscle tone, and to-die-for eyes, and was hitting on him. For some odd reason I flinched at that thought. Weird. "I think that Hermione really isn't an asset to this establishment anymore…" Outside the room, I stifled a gasp. She was such a bitch! "She hardly pulls her weight, you see…" I could hear a sugary-sweet (and completely fake) hint of sorrow in her voice now. It was all part of the act. "I was going to recommend that you talk to your boss about her, but I was thinking, maybe you could just cut off her tips?" I could hear papers shuffling. "I mean, just, like, for now? I guess I could take them and keep them at least until she shapes up…" And suddenly I knew what she was after. My tips. They were never that much, but I actually counted on them to help me survive. I was pulled from my thoughts by Malfoy's deep, smooth voice. "Hmmm… an interesting claim, Brown." I was pleased, for some reason, that he called h er by her last name. I held my breath, waiting for a response from him, praying he would see through her façade. "But I'm afraid Miss Granger's work seems quite up to par… I would need solid evidence of her negligence, Even then it's not company policy to cut tips, much less give them away for 'safekeeping'… I'm afraid your proposition seems wholly ludicrous…and I would like to get home sometime before midnight…" He trailed off. Her dismissal was clear, and I took a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. _

Hermione continued spinning in her desk chair, faster and faster, like an orbiting space ship, losing control. She was so confused. He was kind to her, and he was haughty and cruel. He was handsome, and he was a prat. And none of that really mattered because her rent had gone up and she couldn't pay it. But for some reason, while she was petrified of losing the studio, she was more petrified of Draco. Or not really of Draco, but of what was going on with Draco. Because he was such an anomaly. And because he represented her past. The door to the office creaked open. _It's probably the wind…_thought Hermione, spinning fast one more time around. The doorway flashed into her field of vision, and out again, like a fleeting glimpse of something unimportant in a movie. But this was important, because there was someone in the doorway. Pushing her feet against the ground, Hermione hurried the spinning office chair to do another 360, so she could see who was in the door. Unfortunately, it was not to be…

CRASH!

Like most muggle office chairs, Hermione's chair could only spin a certain amount in one direction before it fell apart. And of course, just as the mysterious stranger approached the doorway, Hermione's chair fell apart. And so did her pride, because she fell with it.

Hermione was on the floor. Again. For what seemed like the hundredth time in a week, though it was really only the second. She had a strange feeling of déjà vu. The world was still spinning, even though she was fairly certain she was completely stationary. The light purple pattern of her ceiling wall-paper swirled attractively above her, and her desk and fallen-apart chair, next to her head, swayed awkwardly. Her eyes had become kaleidoscopes, and the world was oddly skewed through them. Into this odd, fish-eye-view world, swam another color. A bright, silvery-golden hue—perfection. Still Dizzy, Hermione smiled a slightly lopsided smile, looking up at the bright, shining shape above her.

Suddenly everything seemed to focus. Bright shining silvery-gold. Malfoy. Hermione suddenly felt very young, and very silly. Like a child caught playing in her daddy's office. _Except this is MY office…_Hermione thought slightly angrily. What is Malfoy doing in here without knocking! She sat up slowly, and turned indignant eyes to Malfoy. Then it hit her; _damn. He did knock. I just was too busy spinning on my chair like an immature monkey to even notice or respond. And then the goddamn thing broke… and now Malfoy has had the pleasure of seeing me practically passed out twice this week!_

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She snapped, jumping to her feet, and standing awkwardly, realizing she couldn't sit down because her chair was broken. Not wanting to appear weak, though she was still slightly dizzy, she leaned casually against the desk.

"Your students are already here, warming up…" he began, a undisguised grin on his face. Clearly he wasn't buying her tough-guy I'm-totally-fine-even-though-I-just-banged-my head-really-hard act. "Since I didn't have a partner, I came in to look for you…" he smirked. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything?..." Hermione grimaced. Of course he was teasing her. He always was teasing her, playing with her emotions, screwing up her mind. Rubbing her temples, Hermione's frown deepened.

"I'll be out in a minute, Malfoy," She said, slightly more civil now. _Has it really already been forty minutes since I got here? Time spent in contemplation sure flies by! _ Malfoy nodded, and a look of concern crossed his face. For a second, everything became crystal clear to her. He was worried about her little fall. Giving him a sharp, warning glare that said 'don't you dare ask me if I'm all right', Hermione turned around, rummaging through her bag for her clothes. Malfoy still stood in the doorway.

"I hate to disappoint anyone, Malfoy," Hermione said, shooting him a truly Slytherin-worthy smirk. "But I'm afraid you'll have to leave while I change—I'm not in the mood for an audience today…" Malfoy's eyes widened. Clearly he was surprised. _Damn! She's changing??? Get it together Draco… of course she won't be dancing in those jeans… even though they do make her ass look super-cute… _Mentally, Malfoy slapped himself. _Bad thoughts, Draco. Bad thoughts. _Malfoy blushed minutely, and turned, leaving the room as quickly as possibly without all-out running.

Draco's arms encircled Hermione's small frame, her body mere centimeters from his. They were one with the music, one with each other, gliding effortlessly across the dance floor. The other couples had long since ceased dancing, and simply watched the creation that master and pupil were weaving across the room. Each step was calculated to match the others', each movement timed to compliment eachother. They flowed like water, like air, like fire. Their dance was passionate, yet it had the innocent air of a young child at the playground.

Draco was experiencing an ephiphany of sorts. He had danced before, in rooms filled with magic; magical folk, magical music, magical food—everything had been charmed and spelled and loaded with magic, so that it would be perfect. And yet he had never felt the magic of dance; it had been the duty of a pureblood socialite; his parents reveled in his manly grace, as he danced with many potential future brides, and yet he had always felt like scarecrow; like a carnival performer; dancing for others, dancing without life or feeling. But here, in this muggle room, with cracking plaster walls, and a scuffed, thoroughly-magic-less wooden floor, he felt the magic of dancing with another for the first time; it buzzed through his veins, and surged into his head. And a tiny part of his mind whispered: _Draco… dracooo… listen to me… this is dangerous- it's not the dance, it's her. You are on a mission; do not involve feelings—you are stone; you are Switzerland; beware… _But Draco through caution out the window, to the wind, and let the dance take him; and believed that it was simply that he was dancing because he WANTED to that made this time different; he refused to think that maybe it was because of the incredible young woman in his arms…

Hermione, on the other hand, was thinking much more logically (as usual). Draco's technique was incredible. He spun her effortlessly. His steps were clean, concise, and yet not clipped to the point where they became emotionless (yes, Hermione was a firm believer that, in order for a dance to be perfect, every part of the body had to **exude **emotion). His dancing style was fiery, not at all like his usual icy demeanor. To be quite frank, she was blown away. Not only that, but he surprised her by executing some well-done lifts throughout the dance. Not just anybody could do that… _Clearly there's more to him than you think, Hermione. _She told herself. _Any man who can dance so delicately, so meticulously, and yet with so much emotion can't be all bad…_Her inner voice told herself to give him a chance to prove that he wasn't the evil bastard she'd always seen him as.

*****

After class was over, Hermione sat breathless in her office. Draco was truly an amazing dancer. She closed her eyes, reliving the feeling of gliding around the room, led by his strong, delicate hands. Her meditations were interrupted by a knock on the door. Startled, she opened her eyes.

"Come in!" She called, turning her chair to face the door (yes, she had fixed the chair).

Malfoy entered. _He looks positively edible! _Her naughty, inner-teenager realized. Hermione quickly stuffed the voice's mouth with cotton—she didn't need to have any more inner voices disturbing her at the moment. Malfoy sat down, uninvited, in the seat in front of her desk. Hermione submitted to her childish impulses, and rolled her eyes… _of course he couldn't wait to be invited to sit down…_

"Hello, Miss Granger," Malfoy smirked, "I trust my…performance…awas up to your standards?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione chose to ignore the innuendo, and simply nodded curtly. _He's so immature at times! _"I have a… proposition… of sorts…" Malfoy continued, and he actually looked nervous—actually very nervous—positively green with nervousness. Hermione's curiosity was piqued.

"Hmm? What is it, Malfoy?" She asked, somewhat impatiently. Malfoy cleared his throat, ever so slightly. He fiddled slightly with his earlobe—an endearing habit Hermione had come to loath bac in their old school days, when she hadn't seen it as a sign of insecurity, like she did now.

"I was wondering if you would be willing to give me a private lesson…" Hermione's head snapped up at his words. _No. Fucking. Way. _"You see, I love to dance, and I feel like the best way is to dance with someone of my caliber… or better…" He smirked, some of his confidence returning.

"Hmmm…" Hermione pretended that she needed to consider, even though she knew that she would say yes; even if she hadn't needed the money desperately, after the incredible dancing that they had done today, she was quite eager for some more dancing with a challenging, **advanced** partner—something most of her students weren't. Malfoy was worried at her hesitation, though he hid it, as usual, with his trademark icy-Malfoy face. "Do Tuesdays at one work for you?" She asked. "I have a break from the University then, for three hours, so I could easily fit in an hour-long session…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Never Gonna Make You Cry**

A/N: I AM SO INCREDIBLY SORRY THAT I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER… life has been busy, hectic, and all that stuff… but I've also had a bit of trouble deciding where to go with this fic… anyways, I just wrote this chapter in about an hour today, so it really hasn't been edited that much or anything, so I hope it's okay… I just felt so guilty about not updating that I HAD to get something up… I'm on March break now, so hopefully I can write a couple chapters ahead of time, and work out where I'm going so I'll be able to update once I get back to school…

Thanks to all my reviewers for Chapter 6- TwinsConspiracy (here's my update!), anaa-pixy (I love your enthusiasm!), AnMarie10 (I'm glad you like it so far- I'll work on my sentence structure and adjectives- you kind of inspired me to add in the whole flashback about leaving the wizarding world!), Mirukarumi (I'm glad you think it's original!), rons-girlbloom (yup, and real dates may come soon! =]]), Hermione-Loves-Ron16311 (I'm excited, too!) , and Pau-0803 (yup, I'm back in action- sorry this one took sooo long!)

Also, please take all the dancing references with a grain of salt- in other words, I've done a tad bit of dancing, but really don't know that much (I've watched shows like dancing with the stars though!), but I really truly don't know that much about dancing. When I wrote this fic I didn't intend dancing to become as big a part as it did, so I'm kind of fudging some of it… though I have done some research… so just go with it, please!

Disclaimer: Why would I be writing fanfiction if I owned Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy (yumyumyum)… it all belongs to JK Rowling…

**Chapter VII**

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. Her nightmares had gradually ceased in the years after the final battle, dwindling from nightly horrors to occasionally disturbing dreams, until they were virtually gone. But she could still remember the violence that had been branded forever into her mind in those years of struggle, and occasionally the memories still manifested themselves in sick, twisted, and utterly terrifying dreams. And then, of course, it didn't help that it was Tuesday. Her sessions with Malfoy would start that afternoon. She had danced with him before, of course, in the Friday class, but somehow she could tell it would be different when it was just them, the music, and the endless dance floor.

Sally was out of town, and Hermione found herself wallowing in self-pity; something she rarely indulged in. Over the past years, after her break from the wizarding world, Hermione had built herself a stable, dependable life, chock full of busy day-to-day regularities. Hermione always had a bit of a control complex; she always needed to be on top of things, to bring order to chaos with cool and flawless logic. And of course, when coping with being abruptly shut out of everything she believed in, Hermione's complex mind went on damage control; in the past years she had had little time to simply reflect on her tragic situation.

But part of Hermione was tired of being safe; tired of holing herself up in her own fears, covering them with responsibilities and commitments. _Maybe this thing with Malfoy is what I need_ thought Hermione as she made herself coffee and sat down at the kitchen table of her flat—decorated with an inexpensive plastic yellow table cloth—and began going over what she would do with Malfoy. _Nothing too… provocative… I really don't feel like getting down and dirty with Draco. I mean Malfoy. Yes, of course I meant Malfoy…_Hermione's inner debate continued as she munched on her bran muffin and brushed her teeth.

*****

Her day went by all to quickly—by one she was walking up the studio steps—and much to her surprise she found Malfoy already there, waiting outside, eating a sandwhich. Hermione was no big fan of sandwhiches—yes, they were delicious, but people who ordered Sandwiches tended to be hell to clean up after, and besides, sandwhiches were just so _tacky._ To Hermione, sandwiches were the epitome of a quick food fix—and it was impossible to look good while eating a sand which, so they weren't good date foods… and yet as Hermione watched Malfoy eat his sandwhich, her mind started wandering… _Looks like Ham and Cheese… wow, I never noticed how white his teeth are… and they're so straight… his lips look awfully soft…_ Hermione tore her attention away from Malfoy's mouth, turning her head too soon to see the smirk that crossed his face—he certainly hadn't missed her brief deviation from the clipped, professional façade she was trying to maintain.

"Come on in, Malfoy…" Hermione motioned for him to enter. "Hopefully the damned management has turned the heat on… sometimes they forget, and I have to go complain, and it's not exactly enjoyable dancing in a cold room. I'm just going to go change and get my music, you can limber up or whatever the heck you like… you're a tad bit early so don't complain about me not being ready… you know you really don't need to be here so early—not that I want you to be late!" Hermione cut off rather abruptly. _I'm rambling and I'm flustered. When was the last time that happened?_

"No need to get all hot and bothered over me, Miss Granger," Malfoy smirked, clearly enjoying Hermione's blush caused by his slight innuendo.

"Oh, thanks Malfoy, but I'll pass," parried Hermione, floundering slightly, her retort clearly missing its mark. Realizing that it was best to just let this one pass, Hermione turned and walked towards here office. "Be good, Malfoy." She said, allowing condescension to creep into her voice "I won't be long…"

Hermione resisted the urge to run all the way to her office and lock the door, and walked like a mature individual to the door and opened it. Opening her bag, she got out her dance outfit—for some reason she'd picked a more conservative outfit this time; a pale blue fitted T-shirt that fell down well below her waistline (she wouldn't be showing _Malfoy_ any more of her body than necessary, and certainly no skin), and simple long black leggings. After putting on her dancing heels, Hermione pulled her wild hair up into a ponytail. She had become acutely aware of how tightly fitted all her dancing clothes were, and had quite a time of it trying to find something looser—an attempt which had been ultimately unsuccessful. Pausing in her rapid preparation, Hermione sat in her chair.

_Malfoy is out there. _She reminded herself. _Draco Malfoy. Son of Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater. Draco Malfoy. Member of the wizarding world. The world that didn't want me enough to let me choose my own life. _Hermione's thoughts drifted back to her last days in the wizarding world; the place that had been her home for so long, a place where she had finally felt the feeling of **belonging**, something she had never felt in the muggle world as a child.

*****

About Three Years Ago:

Hermione sat at the mahogany table of her delectably retro flat in Diagon alley. She absolutely adored the cozy little nook she had inhabited since the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts. Now, with the excruciating, horrific War finally over, she could rest and enjoy home; something she hadn't done in years. Sipping earl grey tea, and eating crumpets, Hermione felt completely content. This was what she had always wanted; to be successful, to be comfortable, to be intelligent, and to be at peace with the universe.

An owl tapped at Hermione's window, startling her out of her blissful reverie. Jumping up, Hermione sighed. These days she got so much mail—much of it form adoring fans—that she never knew exactly who was sending her what. Approaching the owl, Hermione was startled to see that it seemed to be carrying the daily profit, as well as a letter. _Why in the name of Merlin's fuzzy beard am I getting the profit? God knows I don't subscribe to that THING anymore; it's either full of depressing news or inaccurate rubbish…_ Still, curiosity got the better of her, and Hermine opened the window, letting the owl in. Smiling good naturedly at the bird, Hermione stroked him.

"Hmm… you look like a ministry owl… huh…" Hermione continued to stroke the bird and murmur to him, as she examined the bird for any evidence of the sender. Sure enough, a tag with the ministry's official-looking seal was tied around the owl's dainty ankle. Hermione was stumped. _Why would the ministry send me a copy of the profit and a letter?_

Hermione unfurled the profit, quickly scanning the headline.

"MARRIAGE LAW???" she shouted, to the empty walls, quickly scanning the article and then ripping the letter open and reading it. The bird fluttered uncomfortably, in a manner that reminded her oddly of the former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, as if to say 'well, now, it isn't my fault!'. Hermione scowled at the bird and shoved him out the window, and dialed Harry's number. Despite Harry's complete involvement in the wizarding world, he kept his ties to the muggle world—like Hermione—and had a telephone.

"Harry?" Hermione yelled into the phone before he even answered.

" 'Mione?" Harry sounded tired. Most likely he'd spent the night with another one of his crazy fangirls. Harry, who'd never let his fame go to his head, seemed finally to be taking advantage of all the females who adored him. Hermione thought it was disgusting. Poor Ginny.

"Listen to me, Harry Potter. Did. You. Know. About. This. Law?" Her voice was quiet now, laced with fury. There was a long pause on the other end. Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. Finally Harry spoke.

"Yeah. But really there was nothing I could—"

"No. Harry. Listen to this," Her voice was growing steadily louder. " 'Dear Miss Granger…' and then they go on about how grateful they are for my 'brave and effective contributions to the War Effort' and then they say 'we are aware you do not subscribe to the profit, so we took the liberty of providing you with a free copy' GET THAT HARRY? I GET A FREE COPY OF THE FUCKING PROFIT! And then they say 'it is our duty to inform you that in light of the extreme depletion of the Wizarding population, we have instituted a new marriage law. We have reviewed your case and found you to be eligible for this law'" Hermione paused, her voice shaking. She could hear Harry breathing heavily on the other end. She continued, the anger building in her voice. " 'Like all other wizards and witches, you are required to report to the ministry no later than December fifth to declare your fiancé, and your marriage must be conducted by the end of February. Childbearing requirements will be explained further at a later date' Harry! Do you get that? That have imposed fucking CHILDBEARING REQUIREMENTS on us! We'll be breeding like rabbits! It bloody disgusting!"

"Hermione…" Harry seemed to be at a loss for words. Multiple consecutive sleepless nights had left the war hero with a less brain power than usual—and even if he'd been all there, he couldn't have kept up with Hermione's mental fire. "They're so few of us left…" Harry mumbled numbly.

"You support this? YOU? You're the boy who fucking lived. They love you. You're the youngest auror in FOREVER. You have power. Why didn't you stop it? WHY? Tell me now, Harry James Potter!" Hermione growled. "I'm giving you fifteen seconds!" There was silence for a couple seconds. Then Harry spoke, his voice quiet at first, then gaining conviction.

"Maybe I want to settle down, Hermione. Maybe I don't want to be the boy-who-has-tons-of-fans-to-sleep-with anymore! Maybe this will give me a chance to straighten out my life again! This could be what I need! You'll work it out, Hermione. I know it. Ron still loves you, and you still write back and forth with Krum!" Hermione was silent for a moment, fiddling with the phone cords.

"You disgust me, Harry Potter." She whispered finally, her voice utterly broken. "They're using us. The ministry is. Scrimgeour is. They all are. We fought for our freedom, for their freedom, and this is what they give us? We gave up our childhoods. We gave up our innocence. Some of us gave our lives, because the adults—the ones in charge—were utterly incompetent. And now they're trying to gain control over us again. They're taking away our freedom. And yet, you don't see this, do you? All you see is that maybe this could benefit you! You are the most fucking selfish boy I've ever met!" Hermione was crying now. "And Ron, I don't love him. He FUCKING CHEATED ON ME. And Krum and I are friends. I will only marry the man I love, and I haven't met him yet."

"Hermione…marry me." Harry's voice was full of hope, and slightly choked. Hermione was struck by how much he still was a boy inside, even though he was technically a man. Then the power of his words struck her.

"WHAT?" she instinctively held the phone away from her ear for a moment. "WHAT?" Harry's breaths were audible again on the other end.

"I said 'marry me'. I think we can work it out. I've always liked you Hermione. Now you're beautiful, and mature, and I think we can work it out."

"Are you kidding me, Harry? Please tell me you're joking…" Hermione pleaded. Now she was scared. Tears dribbled down Hermione's face; tears of anger. "Come ON Harry. I don't love you like that; you're my friend. You seriously thought…?" She trailed off.

"Yeah, I 'SERIOUSLY THOUGHT'!" Now Harry was angry, too. "Why not, Hermione? I never cheated on you, and you know me better than anyone else! Gin is going to marry Colin, and I NEED someone. What's with the swearing by the way? Channeling Ron are we? And what are you going to do otherwise? Marry a stranger?"

"My God, Harry." Hermione was practically laughing now. Harry's comment about swearing was just so immature. "You should know I'm really angry because I'm swearing at you. And I would never in a million years marry YOU! You were like a brother to me, but maybe not anymore, if you're really this insensitive… and besides, you probably have a fucking STD from all those bints you slept with…" Hermione trailed off, thinking seriously. When she spoke again, Harry had to strain to hear her voice. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Harry Fucking Potter. I'm going to take option 3; line 27 of my letter; 'Those who fail to comply with the ministry's request will be required to turn in their wands and leave the wizarding world'". Hermione hung up the phone with a decisive click. Her mind was made up. Whatever chance there might have been of her dealing with the law had been erased by Harry's insensitive and downright illogical proposal.

*****

Hermione stood up from her chair abruptly, realizing that she had been in the office for nearly ten minutes. _Damn! _She thought. _Now it's going to be nearly impossible to dance with Malfoy and forget about your problems…_

Stepping out of her office, she found she had an excellent view—of Draco's toned legs and butt as he stretched. Blushing a deep peachy crimson, Hermione cleared her throat.

"I think that's enough stretching, Mr. Malfoy…" She said, trying valiantly to erase her blush. _Think of something highly unattractive Hermione—Now! Think of glaciers, or ducklings, or sumo wrestlers… Just not Malfoy's ass… _Feeling startlingly daring, Hermione made a split-second decision. "Let's start with a rumba, Malfoy. The rumba is the slowest of the latin ballroom dances, but often includes complex and challenging figures… and it must be very sensual…" she paused here to assess Malfoy's expression, just catching the surprise on his face before his expression turned blank. Clearly he'd been expecting her to pick a tamer, more 'platonic' dance… well he was sure in for a surprise. Hermione turned the music up.

**I HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT! PLEASE REVIEW! IT'S EASY, SIMPLE, AND KEEPS ME GOING- I don't understand why people favorite my story, or put it on alert, but don't review- so REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


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